Red
by Violain.Mythoria
Summary: It's as if my body is a canvas for a whole new piece of artwork each time, and despite my lack of spirit, he still watches, amazed as the red liquid pools. [A x G]


** AN:** Well, it's my first fanfiction ever posted! Yay! Let me just apologize for any OOCness - especially on Ginji's part. I just rather liked the way this fic turned out, so I decided to post it for all of the Akabane/Ginji fans out there. So, enjoy and please review! An authors motivation is fueled by comments and criticism. Flames are welcome, as long as they're justified.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own GBs. If I did I would undoubtedly botch it up somehow. XD

* * *

When he kisses me, all I see is red. I inhale sharply through my nose as the stench of blood fills me to the point where the nausea is just as consuming as his lips. He knows that it disgusts me and perhaps it is what spurs him to continue.

This isn't the first time that I've allowed such a thing to happen. We both know that even under his sadistic smile and cruel, violet eyes that if uttered one word of defiance, he would ceas completely. Doctor Jackal and I... We have an understanding, though it isn't lust or satisfaction. I don't love him, because the one I love would never comply to what I need. What I use Akabane for.

I see their faces when I close my eyes- pained, betrayed. Death is all around me like it is what the dark city thrives off of. When my eyelids meet, I don't see complete darkness like most people do, rather distinct shades of red. I feel their anger and disappointment, and it's all in one color. One blindly dark shade of crimson that haunts me, consumes me, save one instant. The never ending chasm of pain that  
the dark clad man welcomes... For one moment retribution takes its toll and instead of angry facesI see smiles... Ones of approval. They comfort me. They tell me,

_"It's alright to want Ginji-san."_

_"It's alright to be free."_

Free. Complete and utter lack of inhibition. The word rushes through my veins, taking my breath away. For reasons beyond my own comprehension, I find this word with Akabane.

A scalpel bites into the flesh of my shoulder making me hiss in either pain or familiarity. He watches, fascinated as the cut fills with blood like a dark budding rose. Electricity is dying to crackle over my body to heal the wound instantly, but I let it flow asI do steadily each time. I allow the stinging pain course through me, knowing that all of the ones that I had left for dead or failed to save deserve that much. The blood of their Emperor. Their God.

Disgust washes over me once more when he leans tclose his mouth over the fresh wound. He savors the coppery liquid as if it were the finest wine one could ever drink all the while his dark eyes continuously locked with my own, searching for weakness for fear... Each time we partake in this act he must surely sense this fear, accompanied by an unrestrained loathing and strange thankfulness... He's a ruthless murderer, which allows him to be most suited for the task. I suppose, ever since I first laid eyes on him I knew that he would be.

His motives, like in most everything he does, are unclear and enigmic. My reasonings are my own, but his... I do not let the fear show to satisfy his urge to frighten me. I respond as little as humanly possible. I do not beg him to stop out of physical or emotional pain. Most importantly, I do not fight back and I do not challenge him. In essence, I am far from his perfect prey.

He never objects, on the contrary, he welcomes me each time without a word spoken from either of us. It's as if my body is a canvas for a whole new piece of artwork each time, and despite my lack of spirit, he still watches, amazed as the red liquid pools. I hope and pray that it will drain out of my body completely so that when I close my eyes I will no longer be swimming in it.

Icy fingertips trail over each of my new indentations in a most admirable way making me shiver.

"Akabane-san, why...?" My question is indirect and I don't even know how to finish it, but he pauses momentarily as if understanding and contemplating with heavy consideration. I watch the moonlight play upon his naked skin as he does this. There are areas that look like white porcelain under this natural veil. Fragile, beautiful, even promising, but there are also deep scars from his surgical blades that scream for violence and murder. He is, in a way, just like his own skin. Imperfect, mysterious but undoubtedly beautiful. So much contrast from my own body...

He smiles quietly, stringy black hair falling forward as he does so, "Anything for a good friend, Ginji-kun," my savior replies simply.

I close my eyes again, but the images are just as real, and the color is just as vibrant.

"Your blood is such a beautiful red, Ginji-kun... his voice is displaying the same admiration as before, leaving his lips as a low purr into my ear. "I'm sure that they would all think so as well."


End file.
